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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978507">Potential</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty'>TuppingLiberty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tlib FFC 2020 - original works [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Choose Your Own Adventure, Choose Your Own Ending, February Ficlet Challenge 2020, M/M, Magical Realism, More tags to come as endings are added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:15:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978507</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After rescuing a fortune teller from demons in an alley, regular, normal mundane Reid is granted the gift of being able to tell who would make a good potential match as his soul mate. What choice will he make? </p><p>FFC: Days 18-29: Soulmate, Honey, sports, Daemon, epistolary, merpeople, huddling for warmth, fake relationship, fairy tale, Dance, animal transformation, de-aging.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>OMC/OMC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tlib FFC 2020 - original works [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620334</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>February Ficlet Challenge 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Introduction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This idea came to me a few days ago. I was thinking, how could I end FFC with a bang? </p><p>Choose your own adventure seemed like the way to go. Will be adding endings as fast as possible for you to choose from. :)</p><p>Please note: This is not meant to reflect real Tarot cards and meanings and stuff. Totally made up sideways fantasy world in that regard.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Yeah, no, of course, I get it. Family emergency. Don’t worry about it, babe.” Reid taps his fingers against his kitchen counter, desperately trying to swallow over the lump in his throat. “No, of course I have other plans. Yeah, we can celebrate my birthday next week. Love you.” </p><p>He pulls his phone away from his ear and just stares at the blank screen for a minute. Sandra had been his sure bet - of <em> course </em> Sandra would come with him to celebrate his birthday - and Sandra had bailed. And what’s more, for a perfectly legitimate reason that he can’t be mad at her about: her mom had fallen and broken three ribs and needs her help. </p><p>But the fact that she’s cancelled - that <em> everyone </em> has cancelled - is super depressing, and Reid deflates into one of his kitchen chairs, rubbing over his face. He almost runs his hands through his hair before he remembers the time he spent after work making it look just so. Picking out the outfit he’s currently wearing. Gearing himself up for a night out like he always has to because he’s an introvert. </p><p>Because even introverts like to go out and celebrate their birthday sometimes. And thirty seems like a great opportunity to do so. </p><p>Reid supposes he has to face reality. He’s pulled the “I’m going to stay in” card too many times to have enough social capital to get people to come out with him. How pathetic. Suddenly his sad, lonely future yawns before him, and he’s not even sure if he should care. After all, most of the time, he feels perfectly fine hanging out alone or with small groups of friends. But then, every once and awhile, it’s like this, this empty yearning loneliness that he can’t completely stitch back together and shove down deep inside him. </p><p>He wants a boyfriend, dammit. And then maybe someday a husband, and a place with a yard so they can have a dog. </p><p>And he doesn’t need Freud to tell him that the reason he’s sitting here in his kitchen, all alone on his thirtieth birthday, feeling this keening loneliness all goes back to his past, and neglectful parents, and years in foster care where being a mundane in a world of magic had meant no one wanted to look at him for adoption, and he had had no way to protect himself, either. </p><p>“Gods, Reid, stop with the fucking pity party,” he mutters to himself, picking his phone back up. </p><p>He’d deleted all of the dating apps off of it a month ago, fed up with his own tangled feelings about using the app. His profile normally hadn’t been good enough to draw people in, and when he did, he gave good chat, but every in-person meeting had ended disastrously. Reid is much better at pretending he’s way more interesting over chat than he is in real life. </p><p>The time ticks a minute up on his phone, and he scowls. “Fuck it.” </p><p>Shoving his phone in his pocket, he grabs his nice leather jacket, the one that always gives him a little boost of confidence, and heads out to- to celebrate his birthday, dammit. </p><p>It’s a chilly enough fall evening that he can see his breath as he walks, his hands tucked in his pockets, his eyes pointed down at the sidewalk. He’s just walking, not exactly sure where he wants to end up, but it feels better than sitting in his lonely apartment all by himself. It’s Friday night, and the streets of the city are still packed with tourists and commuters who stayed in town for a drink or two after work, along with everyone else who likes to hang out downtown on a weekend night. He has to work around several crowds on the sidewalk watching someone or another show off their magics for money. </p><p>He looks up, realizing he’s at A Street, and close to one of the bars he’s felt comfortable in before, when he hears a cry from the alley he’s passing. His body goes on alert, sending adrenaline through his veins with a spike of pain, and he pulls out his phone and turns down the alley before he can think about what an extremely horrible idea it is. </p><p>There are two toughs - demons, Reid identifies quickly from their red glowing eyes - hovering threateningly over an old man who’s sprawled on the ground, looking afraid. One of the demons kicks the man in the knee; he groans in pain and Reid feels a flash of anger boil through his veins at the display of such indecency. “Get away from him! I’m dialing 911 right now!” Reid shouts, hoping to attract attention, yes, and also because it’s a well known fact that demons hate-</p><p>“Ha!” Reid snarls, triumphant, as he manages to open the app that plays a high frequency sound, too high for his mundane ears, but enough to drive the demons crazy. Clasping their hands over their ears, they scream and run from the alley, though as they pass Reid, one of them shoves Reid with all of his extra demon strength into the sharp metal side of the garbage bin. </p><p>Reid reaches out to catch himself, and there’s a sudden sharp pain in his wrist and hip as he connects with the metal, and then the demons are gone and he’s huddled against the ground, shocked. </p><p>“Are you all right?” </p><p>Reid blinks, looking up at the old man he’d just <em> scared two demons away from, oh gods, why the fuck had he done that, what had possessed him? </em> “Are- are <em> you?” </em> Reid manages, holding his arm against his chest. </p><p>“Nothing the healer can’t clean up for me. Thank you, young man. You probably saved my life.” He speaks with a small Irish lilt, as if he moved here long ago but hasn’t forgotten his roots. </p><p>With difficulty, Reid pushes himself up to his feet. “I just did what anyone would have.” </p><p>The man looks pointedly down at Reid’s wrist. “There’s a healer just down the street. Want to accompany me?” </p><p>“Mundane,” Reid mutters, not for the first time hating the fact that he can’t just pop in for a quick laying-of-hands to get all fixed up. </p><p>The old man gives a low, commiserative whistle. “Let’s get going, then. If you want the company?” </p><p>Reid’s wrist aches, but he still looks in the direction of the bar. The bar where he’s going to have to sit alone, drink alone, and try to look approachable and kind. Sighing, he nods. “I think there’s a clinic a few blocks from here. We can go to the healer first for your knee, though.” He offers up his good arm to steady the old man, and they hobble out of the alley together. </p><p>“My name’s Damian. What’s yours, young man, so I can thank you properly?” </p><p>“I just did what anyone would have done.” </p><p>Damian sweeps a hand through the empty space all around him and arches a brow. </p><p>“Okay, well-” Reid shuts his mouth, embarrassed at the praise. “My name’s Reid.” </p><p>“Well, Reid, I wish we’d met under better circumstances, but it’s certainly nice to meet you.” </p><p>Despite the pain in his wrist, despite everyone cancelling on him and putting him in this position in the first place, there’s something disarming about Damian’s presence, and he finds himself smiling, just a little, as they walk along, arm in arm. </p><p>“And it’s nice to have met you, Damian.” Reid gives him a short nod as they hobble up to the healer’s door. </p><p>Reid waits, letting his head lean back and rest against the wall while Damian’s taken back behind a curtain. He comes out looking good as new not ten minutes later, and once again Reid burns a little with envy at the speed with which healers work on magical people. </p><p>His road to recovery as a mundane is going to suck a lot more. </p><p>Still, it’s nice that Damian’s no longer hobbling on a bad knee when they leave. A part of Reid expects Damian to make an excuse and peel off, but despite the healing, Damian just takes Reid’s good arm again and they continue slowly toward the mundane clinic. </p><p>“So, Reid, what did I take you away from this evening? How guilty should I feel?” </p><p>Reid laughs a little, but it’s humorless. “Don’t feel guilty at all. I wasn’t doing anything, not really.” </p><p>“Really? All dressed up and nowhere to go, eh? Poor boy.” Damian pats his leather jacket. </p><p>“Something like that. Seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” </p><p>“If you insist.” </p><p>The wait at the clinic is much longer - being a mundane doctor is way less profitable than a healer. Mundanes heal so slowly, and sometimes they don’t. Heal, recover, take your pick. It’s probably depressing, being a mundane doctor. </p><p>But somehow Damian keeps him entertained in the waiting room. He’s full of stories, of course. Turns out he’s a fortune teller, a magic and profession that’s gotten him into quite a few scrapes over the years. Before Reid knows it, they’re calling his name to head back and be evaluated. </p><p> </p><p>“Sprained,” Reid reports an hour later, though he’s surprised that Damian’s still there waiting for him. “Ice and rest and wearing this brace for a few weeks and I’ll be fine.” </p><p>Relief and pleasure light up Damian’s ice-blue eyes. “That’s good to hear, Reid. Now, I think I owe you a drink or a meal, take your pick.” </p><p>“You really don’t owe me anything. You already waited this long for me, and I really didn’t do anything that big-” </p><p>“You saved my life, Reid,” Damian whispers, clasping onto his good arm again. “And shed your own blood in the process. Let me do this.” </p><p>Honestly, Reid would rather just go home and admit defeat on this crappy, crappy birthday, but he feels guilty telling the older man no, so he leads him toward the bar he’d been headed for before. </p><p>They somehow, miraculously, find a corner booth and order drinks, Damian continuing to regale him with stories from his past. The fortune teller is strangely easy to get along with, though Reid supposes when one’s magic trade requires the cooperation of other people like Damian’s does, one becomes good at disarming strangers with a smile and a joke. </p><p>Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the aftermath of the adrenaline, or just Damian’s personality, but Reid finds it easy to open up to him the longer they spend together. </p><p>“It’s my birthday, actually,” Reid murmurs at one point, and Damian’s eyes go comically wide. </p><p>“Well, then, you have to let me give you a present.” Damian’s face twinkles with mirth. </p><p>“Oh, no, that’s not necessary. You’ve already bought me…” Reid looks down, realizing he’s on his third bottle of beer. <em> Huh. </em> “That’s not necessary.” </p><p>“What I have in mind costs nothing,” Damian replies with a wave of his hand. He pulls out a large deck of cards, what Reid assumes must be his own personal fortune telling deck. “Any objection to a reading?” </p><p>“I thought fortune telling didn’t work for mundanes.” </p><p>“It does, it’s just more…nebulous.” </p><p>Reid knocks back the last of his beer and nods. “How do I do this?”</p><p>Damian grins and leads him through the fortune reading process. “What do you want to know about? Career? Money?” </p><p>“Love,” Reid answers easily, knowing it wouldn’t have come as easily without the alcohol running through his system. </p><p>“Ah, yes, love.” Damian’s eyes brighten, and he begins to pull cards. “What would you like answered about love?” </p><p>“I want to know…” Reid blows out a breath, leaning back against the booth. “I want to know if there’s really someone out there for me.” </p><p>For the first time, Damian frowns. “Reid, I can assure you, there are many <em> someones </em> out there for you.” </p><p>Reid snorts. “I haven’t found him yet, then.” </p><p>“Ah.” Damian leans back, too, getting comfortable. “I see what’s happening here.” At Reid’s quizzical brow, he continues. “You just don’t understand how this works.” </p><p>“How what works?” </p><p>“Soul mates. It’s not like Hollywood makes it out to be, all that love-at-first-sight nonsense.” </p><p>“It’s not?” Reid tries to wrap his tipsy brain around that idea and fails. </p><p>It must show on his face, because Damian’s lips quirk up. “It’s not. Think of soul mates like...a spark. A spark has the <em> potential, </em> yes, to create a flame, but it also has the potential to fizzle out. You have feed that spark, give it tinder, bring it to life. It’s not just meeting your soul mate, Reid.” </p><p>Frustration flares up inside Reid. “But I haven’t felt <em> any </em> potential sparks!”</p><p>Damian tsks, nodding. “It can be hard for a mundane, and an introvert, to boot. Perhaps you just need a shift in perspective.” </p><p>“So it is my fault.” Depressed, Reid scrubs his hands over his face. “I know I- I keep myself in, I protect myself, I- I lock others out, or at least that’s what my therapist says.” </p><p>He can see Damian’s small smile between his fingers, and pulls his hands down to look at the elder. “I’m glad you know all of that, Reid, but no, it’s not your fault you’re mundane. I was talking about something else.” </p><p>He reaches across the table, pressing his thumb in the space between Reid’s eyebrows before Reid has a chance to react. Reid blinks, confused, and then in the next millisecond, the world flares white. He shakes his head. “What…?” </p><p>“I’ve given you a small gift. It’s only temporary, I’m afraid, but it will last for a week or so, and that should be enough time for your stubborn brain to understand the truth.” </p><p>“What’s the-” Reid blinks again, startled by the light golden glow Damian’s now emitting, like an aura, all around him. “What the hell.” </p><p>“Until it wears off, you’ll be able to see everyone you have a spark with. They’ll stand out in some way. Can you see it?” </p><p>Reid looks out over the rest of the crowded bar, where a few men are lit by golden auras. “Yeah, it’s like...they have this golden glow.” Reid looks back at Damian, but the glow has faded from his skin. Maybe Reid imagined it in the first place. “That’s- this is… is this how magical people see?” No wonder they always found their soul mates. </p><p>Damian shakes his head. “Magical people have a hard time distinguishing, too, but we have that whisper of magic inside that can help guide us along. I’m just giving you a slight advantage. As repayment, for my life.” Damian takes the last sip of his own beer, and picks up his card deck. “And now, because I need to leave, I’m going to give you one last gift: a list of men to watch for. Are you ready?”</p><p>Reid nods, though he’s not quite sure what Damian means. </p><p>Damian smiles, pulling a line of eleven cards face down. One by one, he starts flipping them over. “The bee, the field, the daemon, the letter, the sea, the sun, the husband, the tower, the dancer, the wolf, the young man. Those are the 11 opportunities you’ll have this week.” </p><p><em> “Eleven?! </em> What, is the universe just going to, like, make up for a shitty life this week or something?” </p><p>Damian laughs, his fingers edging around the last card, The Young Man. “No, this is the average amount. Just...now you have a new perspective.” </p><p>Nonplussed, Reid blinks at the cards, at the faint golden glow Damian’s fingers are emitting again. “That’s unbelievable.” </p><p>“There are many someones for you, and for anyone, Reid. I just opened your eyes a little, that’s all. You don’t need magic to find them. Just promise me...you’ll give one of them a chance.” </p><p>Damian begins to pull back The Young Man, but Reid stops him. “Can I take a picture?” </p><p>That gets Reid that secret little Damian smile again. “Go ahead.” </p><p>A few minutes later, and they’re bundled up outside in the cold, looking at each other. “I feel like I should walk you home. I think I’m going to have to insist,” Reid murmurs. “Make sure you don’t get attacked again.” </p><p>“All right, but I insist on calling you a cab from my apartment for <em> you </em> to get home, then, young man.” Damian takes his arm again. </p><p>It’s strange, the way the connection feels between them. It’s probably the alcohol talking, but it feels a bit like it was meant to be, that alley confrontation. Like now Damian’s his fairy godfather. Damian’s place isn’t far, and Reid’s cab ride is short. He stumbles up the stairs and into his apartment, pulling off clothing as he walks over to the bed. He collapses face first, suddenly bone-tired. </p><p>“Happy birthday to me,” he mumbles into his pillow, and for the first time that evening, it doesn’t make him feel pitiful.</p><hr/><p>Despite staying out late with Damian the night before, despite his hangover, despite the aching in his wrist, Reid pulls himself out of bed for one of the final Saturday morning farmer’s markets before they shut down for the winter. He always misses it until it comes back with the spring. </p><p>He strolls through, his bag of bags hanging over the shoulder of his bad hand. Feeling like treating himself still because of his birthday, he grabs a large bouquet of sunflowers, loving the bright yellow cheeriness of them. They’ll brighten up his studio apartment for a few days, anyway. </p><p>He doesn’t realize what he’s humming for a few minutes, and then he stops in his tracks in the middle of the market, surprised at himself. Somehow, his brain has made a song out of the eleven cards Damian pulled for him last night, and it just keeps running through his head on loop. </p><p>
  <em> The bee, the field, the daemon, the letter, the sea, the sun, the husband, the tower, the dancer, the tiger, the young man. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The bee, the field, the daemon, the letter, the sea, the sun, the husband, the tower, the dancer, the tiger, the young man. </em>
</p><p>As hints go, they’re not especially helpful. The young man? Of course Reid’s potential sparks would be young men. The husband? Of whom? He’s not poly, and he’s not a cheater. He’s still running through the list, the little song, and pondering each clue when he walks up to one of his favorite booths. </p><p>He likes to think it’s one of his favorites because the produce is fresh and lovely, the customer service helpful, the booth clean. He likes to think he’s a little more mature than just liking to shop here because the owner is fucking hot. </p><p>He starts perusing the apples, trying a sample slice and picking for lunch for the week. <em> The bee, the field, the daemon, the letter, the sea, the sun, the husband, the tower, the dancer, the wolf, the young man. The bee, the field, the dae- </em></p><p>“Reid, what happened to your wrist?” </p><p>Reid turns at the sound of the deep voice, pleasure goosebumps raising on the back of his neck. As he expected, Eddie Kulp of Kulp Orchard, half-dryad half-mundane, is standing behind him, looking as fresh and lovely as his produce always is. He’s wearing an apron with the farm’s logo on it, tied over his broad chest, and Reid wants to whimper. And then he blinks, and blinks again, trying to clear the sunlight from his eyes until it hits him square in the face. Eddie’s got a golden aura. </p><p>Eddie’s one of <em> his </em> potentials? </p><p>“Eddie, hey,” Reid says, feeling a little breathless. “I was- uh. Attacked by demons, actually.” </p><p>Eddie’s eyes go wide with concern. “Are you okay? They didn’t-”</p><p>“No, no, other than a sprained wrist, I’m okay.” Reid swallows, blushing under Eddie’s obvious worry. Over <em> him, </em> of all people. “What, uh, what are you recommending this week?” </p><p>Eddie pauses, but apparently decides to go along with Reid’s obvious deflection. “It’s the last week for the figs. Have you tried those yet?” </p><p>Reid follows Eddie over to another part of the booth, watching Eddie pull a knife out of his apron to slice off a piece of fig to try. He holds it up to Reid’s lips, and maybe it’s just the knowledge that Eddie’s one of his potentials, but he swears Eddie’s eyes linger where he drops the slice of fig. Reid chews slowly, enjoying the sweet flavor. </p><p>“They’re amazing if you roast them in the oven with a little bit of honey,” Eddie murmurs, and Reid knows he’s blushing at Eddie’s deep voice. Eddie coughs, looking away as if he’s trying to find something, then grabbing a bottle of honey from a shelf above. “Like this.” </p><p>Reid takes the jar of honey with his good hand, his thumb swiping over the Kulp Orchard logo.</p><p><em> Which is a bee, </em> Reid suddenly realizes. </p><p>
  <em> The bee, the field, the daemon, the letter, the sea, the sun, the husband, the tower, the dancer, the wolf, the young man.  </em>
</p><p>He looks up at Eddie, admiring his handsome face circled in that golden glow. “I’ll take it,” he says softly, and ever-helpful Eddie immediately turns to do prepare it for sale. </p><p>Damian’s words come to him. <em> Give them a chance… </em> </p><p>“Hey, Eddie…?” </p><h3>
  <a href="#section0002">[To give Eddie a chance, turn to chapter 2]</a>
</h3><hr/><p>His wallet considerably lighter, and the bags over his shoulders considerably heavier, Reid makes his way home from the Saturday Market. Still, it’s a pretty enough fall day that he doesn’t feel like staying cooped up indoors, so he grabs a book and heads for the neighborhood park. And still, the song loops through his brain. </p><p>
  <em> The bee, the field, the daemon, the letter, the sea, the sun, the husband, the tower, the dancer, the wolf, the young man.  </em>
</p><p>He settles on a bench, watching another couple play with their dog for a moment with a pang of loneliness. He’s noticed though, at least so far, that none of men who’ve glowed up with potential have had obvious signs of commitment - no wedding rings or arms around boyfriends or anything like that - so maybe he doesn’t have to worry about that aspect. Which, of course, only leaves him more confused about The Husband. </p><p>He’s just getting into his book when he hears someone shout, “Hey, dude, heads up!” </p><p>He looks up with just enough time to deflect an incoming soccer ball that wants to meet his face, apparently, with his book, jarring his wrist. He groans, dropping the book and holding his arm against his chest. </p><p>“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry, dude,” the same voice from before calls out, closer now. Reid looks up, his eyebrows drawn together. He’d never actually say anything about it to the person, but he’s already crafting in his head the perfect take-down for someone so rude as to kick a soccer ball at his face. </p><p>And that perfect take-down flies out the window because the flushed, sweaty man in front of him, looking concerned - a sight he’s getting used to today - has a steady golden aura around him. </p><p>“Are you okay?” The guy - a big, soft man, flush with exertion - sits down on the bench beside him, picking up the soccer ball and tossing it back toward the field. </p><p>The pain in his wrist is already mostly receding. “Yeah, I think it’ll be fine.” </p><p>“I’m out here teaching my nephew but he still has a problem with bending it the right direction. Do you need a quick heal? I don’t mind.” The soccer player holds his hands up, and they emit a faint glow that’s different than the golden potential aura. </p><p>“Mundane,” Reid responds with a grimace. “But it’s feeling better, thank you.” </p><p>“Well, I should get back to the field-” </p><p>
  <em> The bee, the field, the d- the field! </em>
</p><p>“Wait,” Reid finds himself saying, surprising both of them.</p><h3>
  <a href="#section0003">[To give the soccer player a chance, turn to chapter 3]</a>
</h3><hr/><p>Steve and Charlotte take him out to dinner Sunday night, an apology for canceling on his birthday that Reid accepts. Every now and then as they walk along the river to and from dinner, he catches a golden aura out of the corner of his eye. It’s apparent enough that Steve asks him if something’s wrong and he has to make an excuse. </p><p>What he’s not expecting is that there’s a table full of people waiting for them. </p><p>“Surprise!” The people - all friends or at least acquaintances - burst into the Happy Birthday song for him.</p><p>“Reid, we all felt shitty that Friday fell through, so we thought we’d throw this together for you,” Charlotte says, squeezing him in a side hug. “We’re sorry you were alone on your birthday, fighting off demons all by yourself like the badass CPA you are.” </p><p>Reid laughs, his cheeks going hot. It makes him feel wanted, and he slides into a seat at the head of the table. “Yeah,” he says, raising his braced wrist. “I wouldn’t recommend it.” </p><p>The table cheers and claps for him, which makes him feel embarrassed about how low and lonely he was feeling on Friday night. He’s got people, obviously, and sometimes he just forgets that when he gets wrapped up in his own stuff. </p><p>And then there’s the potentials Damian helped him see. Like, for instance, the complete stranger sitting next to him, glowing a faint gold, a Daemon ferret perched on his shoulder. </p><p><em> The Daemon. </em> </p><p>“I don’t think we’ve met,” Reid says as a waiter delivers a first round for the table. </p><p>He’s a smaller man, almost mousy in the way Reid considers himself - but the stranger wears it better. Cute button nose. “We actually did once, I think. I’m Helena’s younger brother, Carlos? I was at her bachelorette party last year.”</p><p>“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry I didn’t remember.” In truth, Reid still doesn’t, but then again, he tends to get party amnesia after spending a long time with a lot of other people in a large, noisy space. “Reid, but, uh. Did you know that? You probably knew that?” </p><p>Carlos’ eyes dance like he’s laughing at Reid on the inside. “Yeah, I knew that. We <em> just </em>sang happy birthday to you.” </p><p>“Oh, wow. You must think I’m such an idiot.” </p><p>“No, no. Just...overwhelmed, like I’d be. I’m not sure I’d ever want a surprise party.” </p><p>Reid takes a second to examine his feelings, because he wants to talk truthfully to a potential. “I...would have never wanted to ask for one for myself, and I’m not sure I’d want one again, but this, right now, is really nice. A good way to start my thirties.” He blushes and takes a sip of wine. “Oh gods, you must think I’m such an old man.” </p><p>“Hey, I’m twenty-five.” Obvious appreciation shows in Carlos’ eyes. “Besides, I like an older man.” </p><p>Reid’s heart skips a beat, and he grins. </p><h3>
  <a href="#section0004">[To give Carlos a chance, turn to chapter 4]</a>
</h3><hr/><p>Reid frowns down at the stack of mail, all of which isn’t addressed to his office. He works in a small accounting firm, just the four of them, in a much larger office building, and the building’s mail room must have gotten mixed up because he is definitely not Adrian Scofield, attorney. </p><p>“Hey, Shel, I’m going on break, okay? Back in 10.”</p><p>Shel nods from their desk, caught up in something on their computer.</p><p>Adrian Scofield’s office is three floors down, but in basically the same location as theirs, he finds out almost immediately. That could explain the mix up. When he pushes inside, he sees that it’s a similar space to theirs - one small doored office, and a large front area with several desks. Only one of them is occupied right now though. </p><p>“Adrian Scofield?” he asks when the man at the desk just keeps typing. </p><p>“Everett Denver, actually.” The man finally looks up, and even in the bright light pouring in from the office windows, Reid can see that golden potential glow. “How can I be helpful?” </p><p>“Oh, um. We got this mail up in my office for Adrian Scofield, and I thought I’d walk it down to you guys on my break. See, for office 332, but we’re 632. Just a mix up, obviously.” </p><p>Everett’s smile is relieved and genuine. “Oh thank the gods, we’ve been waiting for these files. Thank you so much,...” </p><p>“Reid.” </p><p>“Thanks, Reid.” Everett pushes up from the desk and goes to knock on the one closed office door. “Adrian, that mail you needed came.” </p><p>Reid nods and promptly leaves, because there’s no way he’s going to hit on a very obviously busy guy who’s at work. While <em> he’s </em> at work himself. Inappropriate, probably. </p><p>Besides, Damian had encouraged him to give <em> one </em> of the potentials a try. So what if so far he’s met four and hasn’t tried any?</p><p> </p><p>The next day, as he’s going through the mail, he comes across an envelope that says “Reid in Office 632” and that’s it. No return address, not even stamped, so obviously inter-building. Curious, he opens and reads in a loopy curved handwriting: </p><p>
  <em> Reid, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You left before my boss and I had a chance to thank you. So… thank you! You delivering that meant we could settle something yesterday that meant there’s a single parent receiving child support today to help their kids eat. Thank you! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Everett </em>
</p><p>It’s really nice, is the thing, and Reid remembers the golden glow around Everett and pulls over a pad of paper to respond before he can think about it more. It’s only after he puts his own letter in the mail slot that he remembers the cards from Damian. </p><p>
  <em> The bee, the field, the daemon, the letter, the sea, the sun, the husband, the tower, the dancer, the wolf, the young man.  </em>
</p><p>So, The Letter, then.</p><h3>
  <a href="#section0005">[To give Everett a chance, turn to chapter 5]</a>
</h3><hr/><p>Tuesday involves a lunch out with his biggest client, a man as rich as sin, with luckily enough morals not to pressure Reid into illegal choices about his money. The lunch just so happens to be on his yacht, a perk of the job, Reid supposes as he looks out over the water twinkling in the fall sunlight.</p><p>Reid’s not quite sure how it happens. Maybe he turns too quickly at the sound of his client’s voice. Maybe he didn’t have quite the right grip on the railing due to his injured wrist. Maybe the boat pitched in a sudden surge of ocean waves. Whatever the cause, one minute he’s on the deck of the yacht, the next moment he’s lost his center of gravity and is tumbling over the side and into the dark water below. </p><p>Panic sets in almost immediately, his wool accountant suit and good shoes weighing him down, making his limbs heavy against the waves. He fights to keep his head above water, hears shouting above him, sees his client, panicked, at the railing preparing to toss one of the floating rescue rings. </p><p>And then he’s supported from below, no longer struggling, and being held against the firm muscular chest of a … Reid blinks. </p><p>Yes, that’s a merman cradling him. A <em> golden-glowing </em> merman. </p><p>Reid sputters, coughing up some water.</p><p>“You’re safe now, mundane.” The merman’s voice is as deep and mysterious as the ocean. </p><p>“Th-thank you so much,” Reid manages. </p><p>The ring bobs beside him, ready for Reid to hold onto and be pulled back up. He looks back up at the merman, then over at the ring.</p><h3>
  <a href="#section0006">[To give the merman a chance, turn to chapter 6]</a>
</h3><hr/><p>The merman pulls the ring over and helps Reid grip it. With a final nod, he dives below and swims away, quickly disappearing into the dark water. </p><p>Reid hangs on to the ring, but he can’t get a good enough grip on it to be pulled up with his injured hand. </p><p>“I’m coming down to help you up!” his client, Mason Hewitt, yells, a second before he strips off his shirt and shoes and dives into the water. </p><p>In shock, Reid watches him bob to the surface, his salt-and-pepper hair clinging to his head. “Come on, I’ve got you.” Mason helps him wrap his arms around Mason’s neck as he starts ascending the rope ladder the crew has thrown down. </p><p>It takes Reid a moment to understand the superhuman feat that Mason is completing, carrying the body weight of an entire other person on his back as he climbs a tiny rope ladder, but he can’t quite wrap his head around <em> how </em> exactly Mason’s doing it. </p><p>They spill onto the deck with the help of the rest of the crew, a soggy mess. It’s then that Reid starts shivering uncontrollably, and he’s not even really sure why. </p><p>“Can you go to the galley and get some hot water started for tea? He needs the warmth.” Mason calmly delivers the order even as he lifts Reid in his arms and carries him into the cabin. Another second and they’re ducking through a door, and then Reid realizes they’re in a bedroom. </p><p>“I need to get these clothes off of you, okay Reid?” </p><p>Reid nods numbly, his shivering out of control now. He barely notices Mason peeling away his layers, but he does notice when a huge, fluffy robe gets wrapped around his bare skin. </p><p>“Come on, into the bed, we need to get warm.” </p><p>In moments, Reid finds himself under the covers, Mason’s body wrapped around him from behind, radiating body heat like he’s a furnace. Finally recovering, finally calming, Reid looks behind to Mason’s face to thank him, then stiffens at two things: Mason’s glowing red eyes indicating he’s a demon, and the faint gold aura around his incredibly warm body. The combination reminds Reid of the summer sun.</p><h3>
  <a href="#section0007">[To give Mason a chance, turn to chapter 7]</a>
</h3><hr/><p>
  <em> The bee, the field, the daemon, the letter, the sea, the sun, the husband, the tower, the dancer, the wolf, the young man.  </em>
</p><p>He takes a day off of work to recover, not sure that he wants to leave his apartment to meet any more potentials. </p><p>Or had he been meeting these people every day and had just been so oblivious…?</p><p>He can’t tell if Damian’s gift is a blessing or a curse at this point. </p><p>He’s sitting in the coffee shop, sipping warm tea. Ever since leaving Mason’s arms, he hasn’t been quite as warm. It’s nice and quiet, some acoustic covers album playing over the low murmur of voices. </p><p>Which is why the man rushing over to his table, golden aura trailing behind him, has Reid widening his eyes and stiffening against any more damn surprises. </p><p>“This is a hundred dollars,” the man whispers, sliding a pile of bills his direction. “I need your help really quickly.” </p><p>“With what?!” Reid asks, in what he thinks is a reasonable tone. </p><p>“I need you to pretend to be my husband,” the stranger replies, desperation obvious in his eyes.</p><h3>
  <a href="#section0008">[To give the fake husband a chance, turn to chapter 8]</a>
</h3><hr/><p>“Okay, Sandra, our goal in life today is to keep me away from any towers, got it?” Reid kisses Sandra on the cheek, then pulls her in for a hug. “How’s your mom doing?” </p><p>“Slowly healing. It’s a process, but she’s already off the pain meds. Hey, what’s this about towers?” </p><p>“Oh, just my slow descent into madness.” He starts explaining his Friday night - and all the potentials he’s turned down since then as they walk the streets sipping their coffee, up to his fake husband that morning.</p><p>“What? Why?!” </p><p>“It’s <em> exhausting. </em> Is this how magical people go around all the time? Is that how Emily chose you?” </p><p>Sandra, at least, is a fellow mundane. She gets a dreamy look on her face at the thought of her vampire wife. “To hear her say it, yeah, something like that. She looked across the room and she just knew.” </p><p>Reid pats her arm, and tries to evaluate all of his interactions so far this week. Had any of them felt like that? Or had he not given any of them enough of a chance?</p><p>“Hey, since we’re by her place, want to stop in and say hi to my mom? I need to check on her anyway.” </p><p>“Sure. She lives in the Montfield Apartments, right? Surely three stories can’t count as a tower.” Reid hooks his good arm in Sandra’s as they continue walking. </p><p> </p><p>They’re just leaving Sandra’s mom Terri’s place when Reid runs into something in the hallway. At least this time he doesn’t hurt his wrist against, but he does curse, loudly, much to Terri’s dismayed gasp. </p><p>“Watch it!” Someone growls, and Reid turns in the direction of the voice and looks up. And up. And up a little more. Probably the tallest man Reid has ever seen in real life is, uh, towering above him, glowering. He’s holding a large bound package that, when Reid steps back to examine, looks a lot like a painting, and his clothing - and skin - are covered in paint. They are also covered in that gold glow. </p><p><em> You’ve got to be kidding me. </em> </p><p>Sandra looks between the painter and Reid, then nudges Reid with her elbow in encouragement. </p><p>“You’re a painter, huh?” Reid asks, because he’s the dumbest person in the world. His cheeks go hot, and he looks down and away. </p><p>The man doesn’t move, though, just keeps looking at Reid, his arm muscles bunched and working under the weight of the awkward package he’s carrying. “We should get dinner,” he says instead. </p><p>“Uh.” </p><p>“Dude,” Sandra says, still elbowing his side. It’s starting to hurt. “That’s what <em> Emily </em> said to me!” She turns back to the guy. “Are you a vampire?” </p><p>“Sandra, have <em> some </em> chill,” Reid whispers fiercely. </p><p>“Half,” the vamp responds, curt. He’s still looking straight at Reid like Reid’s doing something besides just standing there. </p><p>“Which half?” </p><p>Reid starts elbowing Sandra in the side. </p><p>The guy grins, fangs showing. “All the good parts.” </p><p>“And you...want to take me...to dinner. Can vampires even do that?” </p><p>“Reid! You know better.” Sandra lightly punches him in the arm, offended. </p><p>“Just don’t get the garlic fries.” </p><p>Sandra laughs, and Reid stares at her. “Was that a joke? Is he joking?” </p><p>“I know you can feel it, too,” the half-vamp says, beginning to walk toward the stairwell. “Our potential. You know where I live, so...find me, if you dare.” </p><p>Reid’s heart hammers in his chest, and he has to force himself to hold onto Sandra’s arm to make sure he doesn’t just follow the strange vamp out into the street. </p><p>“Dude. Duuuuuude. You have your very own Emily!” Sandra tugs him along excitedly. </p><h3>[To give the half-vamp a chance, turn to chapter 9]</h3><hr/><p>After the week he’s had, Reid’s almost relieved to meet The Dancer. Or, at least, who he presumes is The Dancer. </p><p>He’s certainly dancing. And glowing gold. And looking very, very hot. </p><p>Drinks after work with the rest of the office had turned into an impromptu dance party at a nearby club because the quarterly reports are done. </p><p>Reid’s never had any success picking up someone in a bar before, but he’s also never known that he could stand a chance with the magnificent man currently shaking his ass on the dance floor, all alone. </p><h3>[To give the dancer a chance, go to chapter 10]</h3><hr/><p>But in the end, he can’t make himself approach the other man. He’s too insanely hot, there’s no way he could actually be a potential for Reid. </p><p>Trying not to feel down on himself, Reid takes one of his coworkers out to the floor and dances, though it’s a little awkward with the wrist brace. Still, he must not be doing so badly because someone slides up behind him and starts dancing with him. A quick glance over his shoulder tells Reid the guy doesn’t look like a creep, and yeah, he has a golden glow. What luck. </p><p>He takes a moment to ponder what he would have done if someone had felt this <em> good </em> behind him and he <em> hadn’t </em> been a potential. Would he have just said screw it to the whole system. </p><p>He loves the way the stranger’s hands hold his hips, grinding him back against something warm and solid. “You’re so hot, baby,” he whispers in Reid’s ear. </p><p>Reid <em> feels </em> hot when this guy tells him so, and he shivers. </p><p>“Did someone hurt you?” The stranger asks, one of his fingers delicately playing over Reid’s brace. </p><p>“Yeah, but they’re gone now.” Reid feels a little drunk in the warmth of the stranger’s arms, even though he hasn’t had any alcohol in well over an hour, and even then, it’s Thursday, he’s not going to get drunk on a Thursday night.</p><p>“Good.” The man buries his face in Reid’s neck, smelling him- smelling him? That’s- and then Reid feels pinpricks at his hips. Claws. Werewolf.</p><p><em> The Wolf. </em> </p><p>Sighing, Reid offers his neck in submission, letting the wolf smell his fill. </p><h3>[To give the werewolf a chance, go to chapter 11]</h3><hr/><p>Reid wakes up blurry on Friday morning, wondering how the night would have gone if he’d stayed with the wolf. </p><p>But the thing is, about all of these potentials, is that they all seem like they’re missing something. Something he’s felt, even, and recently, too. And maybe that’s why he hasn’t been able to give anyone else a chance. </p><p>Because he thinks that maybe he gave his heart away a week ago.</p><p> </p><p>After work, he buzzes the only Damian in the building Damian had taken him to before. </p><p>“Hello?” comes Damian’s gruff older voice. </p><p>“Uh, hi, Damian. It’s, um, Reid? The guy you met in the alley last week?” </p><p>There’s a pause, and then, “I’m buzzing you in. Apartment 205.” </p><p>“I’ll be right up.” </p><p> </p><p>It’s like a sigh of relief and a frisson of excitement at the same time when Damian opens the door. And there it is, that little spark, that little crackle of golden glow before it fades from Damian’s skin again. </p><p>“It’s you,” Reid whispers, walking inside when Damian steps back to let him in. “You’re- you’re one of my potentials. Did you know? Are you, whatever you are, are you like a vampire? Can you see it too?”</p><p>Damian sighs, hobbling over to a chair and sitting down. “It doesn’t matter if I see it too, Reid. I’m too old to be one of your potentials. You’re better off choosing someone younger. Even that rich client of yours, the demon with the yacht? He’s older, but not...decrepit.” </p><p>“You’re not decrepit!” Reid protests, though he knows Damian is right. If he chooses Damian, how long would he have?</p><p>“Did you meet your 11 potentials? Who did you like the best?” </p><p>Reid clicks his tongue, then sits down on Damian’s couch. “Everyone but The Young Man.” He gives Damian a half-hearted smile. “You sure that wasn’t meant to be The Old Man?” </p><p>Damian snorts humorlessly. “You can’t choose me, Reid.” </p><h3>[To give Damian a chance, go to chapter 12.</h3><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Eddie - The Bee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reid gives Eddie, the farmer, The Bee, a chance. </p><p>Days 18/19: Soulmate/Honey</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey, Eddie…?” Reid asks, feeling pleasure and excitement well up at him when Eddie turns around with eagerness and not annoyance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can I help?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s so easy to get lost in Eddie’s easy smile, so Reid ends up having to blink after a second and refocus himself. “That fig recipe sounded really good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He curses internally as his traitor mouth pauses, not able to complete the thought, but Eddie just keeps smiling at him. “It really is. With a little goat cheese from Big Oak Dairy?” He makes the chef’s kiss gesture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, are they here too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie finishes bagging his produce and takes Reid’s money, but instead of handing the bag back over to Reid, he pops it over his own shoulder. “Hey, Lisa, I’m going to take a quick break, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His partner looks up from organizing the sweet potatoes to give him a thumbs up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can carry it, it’s no trouble-” Reid protests weakly, trying to pretend that he’s not insanely attracted to both the farmer and the idea that he’s carrying Reid’s stuff to save him some pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got it.” Eddie’s voice is bright as he leads them down one of the aisles of the farmer’s market. “I can’t believe you fought off demons. That’s pretty badass, you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid blushes and tries not to hunch himself in and hide himself away like he automatically wants to do at any praise. “It was pretty stupid, to be honest, but I have that magics app, you know? The one with all the different preventative and protective devices.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smart.” Eddie bumps into his good side a little. “And still badass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was this older guy, so-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you did this to </span>
  <em>
    <span>rescue</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone? Dude, that’s even better!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid can’t help but smile at Eddie’s enthusiasm. “I hate when people pick on the weak, you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warmth shows in Eddie’s eyes, and the golden aura flashes a little, reminding Reid of its presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It gives Reid the boost he needs to follow through. “There’s no way I can eat all of these figs myself, and cutting them up might be an issue with the wrist situation as it is. Would you be interested, uh, maybe, in coming over to my place and helping me out with that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounds so, so stupid coming out of his voice that Reid wants to wince and walk away, but the golden aura brightens again as Eddie turns toward him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would love that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walk for a few more beats of silence before Eddie pauses, placing a hand on Reid’s arm. “Wait, you are asking me like...like a date, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid’s face feels like the surface of the sun. Oh gods, he’s so bad at this. “I- yes? Yes, if you want it to be, I want...it to be.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie grins again, and Reid’s surprised when an ornamental cherry blossom tree nearby sprouts a dozen pink blossoms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right, half-dryad. Apparently it’s Eddie’s turn to blush as he makes a small gesture with his hand, and the blooms wink out of existence again. “It would hurt the tree to try and sustain them in this weather,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tentatively, Reid flexes his hand, then holds it out and offers it to Eddie. The farmer takes it, and Reid blows out a relieved breath. Warmth floods him, and the gold aura gives a final big pulse before subsiding completely back into Eddie’s skin. Maybe that’s what happens when he takes a chance on one of his potential soulmates: they glow until he follows through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s fingers firm in his, he makes his purchases at the dairy booth with Eddie’s help. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Reid lifts up the plate to get a closer look, and the smells of roasted honeyed figs waft to his nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one that cooked it,” Eddie says with a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid sets the plate on the coffee table between them. Given Reid’s small studio apartment, they’re seated on the floor, sharing a plate between them. “And you’re the one that prepped the figs, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re the one that grew them, so, you know, I think you’re winning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s eyes are warm as he lifts his fork to gather his first bite. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I</span>
  </em>
  <span> think it’s not a competition. Here, it’s the perfect bite.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brings the honeyed fig and goat cheese to Reid’s lips, and Reid can’t help but meet his eyes as he closes his lips around the food. And then he can’t help but give out an obscene little moan as the flavors all swirl in his mouth. “Oh my gods, Eddie, here-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He returns the favor, crafting the perfect bite for Eddie and feeding it to him. Feeding Eddie is somehow impossibly intimate, and he feels like his breath is coming a little faster. As he watches, the light brown of Eddie’s eyes goes darker, his pupils growing, and Reid can only wonder if the same is happening to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re nearly silent as they continue to feed each other, Reid practically curled up against Eddie. When there’s only one bite left, Eddie insists on giving it to him, swirling the last piece of fig in the honey before taking the last bit of goat cheese on top. It’s perfection, and Reid hums happily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie cups his cheek, and leans in. “You’ve got a little honey on your lips,” he whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid’s tongue darts out automatically to clean it, but he pauses, his lips open, looking up at Eddie. “Help me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie closes the gap between them, his lips brushing over Reid’s, exploring, mapping, discovering. His tongue flicks out, presumably to get the honey on Reid’s lip, but Reid takes the opportunity to open more and let Eddie in. As first kisses go, Reid can only think that it’s top rate. He can feel tingles all the way down to his toes, especially when Eddie pulls him closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they break apart, they’re both breathing heavily, and Reid wants nothing more than to dive back in. But Eddie’s still holding his chin, and he pulls back. “I don’t know whether to be excited or scared that all I want to do is...keep doing that, possibly for the rest of my life,” Eddie whispers, looking impossibly vulnerable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to be scared.” Reid squeezes Eddie’s arm with his good hand, pulling Eddie away from his chin and linking their fingers again. “I was so scared to ask you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to be scared, either.” His eyes flick down to the brace on Reid’s wrist. “When I think that you could have...and I would have never known, you just would have stopped showing up every Saturday...it takes my breath, Reid. I can’t explain it, I can’t, it’s just...you just feel like home, and it’s too fast to say that, and-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not too fast, Eddie.” Reid leans over to brush a kiss over his beard-rough cheek. “We can take things at exactly whatever pace we want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiles, pulling Reid over into his arms. Reid’s happy to stay for a good long while. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To return to chapter one, follow this link, because I can't get the hyperlinking to work &gt;:(<br/>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978507/chapters/54933103</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Frank - The Field</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reid gives the soccer player - The Field - a chance.</p><p>FFC Day 20: Sports</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Wait,” Reid finds himself saying, surprising both of them. When the player turns back around, Reid tries a wobbly smile. “What’s your name?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brown-red of the man’s flushed face seems to get a little deeper, and he wipes the sweat from his brow. “Efren, but everyone calls me Frank.” He holds out his hand, seems to realize it’s covered in dirt and grass stains, and pulls it back, looking embarrassed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frank.” Reid pushes to his feet, holding out his good hand. “I don’t mind, really. My name’s Reid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reid, hi.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uncle Frank, pass me the ball!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid looks around Frank to see a small boy, elementary aged? - Reid’s never been great at knowing how to age kids - dancing impatiently over on the grass field. It makes Reid smile. “Go ahead, he looks like he’s ready to go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank’s eyes linger on his before he turns again, passing the ball to his nephew with a deft kick of his foot. It’s hard to tell what’s the golden aura and what’s the sun shining down on the soccer field as Reid watches Frank take a drink from a stainless steel water bottle on a nearby bench. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a decision, one that feels right, even if it wouldn’t have before Damian gave him this advantage. Ripping his bookmark in half, he scribbles down his name and number and tucks it under Frank’s water bottle when he and his nephew are at the other end of the field. Frank catches his eye, and gives him a small, secret smile, and Reid knows he made a good choice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I promise I’ll take you out without the kiddo at some point. My sister’s hours aren’t reliable, and you know how expensive childcare is in this city. I try to help out when I can.” Frank looks shy again as they sit together in the stands of the huge indoor soccer field, watching his nephew Richie practice with his team. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid smiles, nudging Frank’s shoulder with his own. “No, I like it. It’s low key.” They watch Richie for a few minutes in a companionable silence. “Do you want any of your own?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not quite sure what possessed him to say it, and Frank’s looking a little shocked as well. “Oh, gods, yeah, I did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean to ask that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank holds up a hand to stop his apology. “No, it’s okay. I, uh, appreciate asking, I guess? Last relationship I had, we, uh, broke up because she didn’t want children. And I get it, it’s totally valid, but...yeah, I do. Someday. I really...can’t wait to be a dad. And look, I’ve already got dad-bod, so...” He blows out a breath on a small laugh. “Wow, that was really liberating. Do you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid looks out at the field of … nine year olds? Damn, he really should have asked … and thinks about the loneliness and longing he’d been feeling right before he met Frank just two days ago at the park. “Yeah, I do, too. I didn’t have-” He stops himself, picking at his jeans with his good hand until Frank’s fingers link through his to distract him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to say anything more, Reid, it’s okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid looks over into Frank’s eyes, then down at their joined hands. “I didn’t have a very stable home life, growing up. And then it was foster care, so, uh. I just want to be there for someone the way people...weren’t there for me, growing up, you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank squeezes his hand in comfort. “I think that’s beautiful.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid knows he’s blushing, and he looks away, around the stadium. “Wow, something about the energy of this place really has me going deep. Sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...we could just lean into it?” Frank gives a shrug, but it’s the grin tugging at his lips that has Reid’s attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask me anything. Something deep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid blinks at him, his mind blanking. “I suddenly can’t think of a damn thing to ask,” he says with a laugh, pulling out his phone. “Questions to ask before marriage,” he narrates as he types. “Here we go. This site has a list.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank looks over his shoulder as he scrolls through the list. “Oh, I like that one. How much alone time do you need?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid hesitates, but everything about Frank makes him feel comfortable being himself. “A lot, honestly. But I break that rule for people who I can exist around without being drained, if that makes sense.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, if you and I were doing something quietly in the same room, like reading or something, but not talking?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, kind of...exactly like that,” Reid confesses with a small laugh. “I don’t really like to go out to like, the club or any place else that has a large group of people. What about you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I grew up surrounded by people,” Frank admits. “But I don’t feel the need to surround myself with people all the time, just that it doesn’t drain me, like it sounds like it would you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid nods. It makes sense - why would the golden aura show him someone that he wasn’t compatible with, after all? “Fair. Okay, how about this one? What does faith and spirituality mean to you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank looks down at his hands, glowing softly with his healing light for just a second. “I obviously have a deep connection with the goddess Aria, but as long as someone respects that she’s important to me, I can respect pretty much what anyone else thinks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m unaffiliated. I’ve just never felt a strong connection to any god, and...I’m not sure I believe anything happens in the afterlife. But I can respect your stance, too.” Reid smiles, nudging Frank with his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Richie’s practice is done, Reid knows more about Frank than he does some of his good friends. He knows that Frank uses humor to cover up insecurities about his body, and that he’s struggled with bi-erasure in the community since he was a teen. He knows his favorite food, and his favorite soccer team, and the top five items on his bucket list. And every little piece, even the parts he disagrees with, every little piece makes him more attracted to Frank. He’s fairly sure he’s got hearts for eyes as they sit with Richie and eat post-practice ice cream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you maybe...want to go out again some time?” Frank asks with some hesitation, as if Reid could ever dream of rejecting him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely yes,” Reid answers easily. He leans over, brushing ice cream-sweet lips over Frank’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It may be the strangest first date Reid’s ever been on, but if Frank’s was being truthful in his answers, then he’s fairly sure it’ll go down in history as his last first date ever. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry guys, I was planning on posting all last week and being done by today (Sunday) and then I had a scary health situation happen. But I'll definitely keep plugging away at all the options!</p><p>I think I'd like to write more Frank. He seems pretty adorable.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Carlos - The Daemon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carlos and Reid have a good talk over dinner. </p><p>A bit of a shorter one, but I really liked writing Carlos. </p><p>Day 21: Daemon AU</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, I’m twenty-five.” Obvious appreciation shows in Carlos’ eyes. “Besides, I like an older man.” </p><p>Reid’s heart skips a beat, and he grins. “Oh really?” </p><p>Carlos scoots a little closer, sounding conspiratorial. “I feel like no one my age has their shit together.” </p><p>“Well, I hate to disappoint, but thirty-year-olds don’t have their shit together either. At least, not me.” Reid takes a sip of his vodka soda. </p><p>“You have a steady job, you have your own place, believe me, you’re at least two steps ahead of any guy my age. <em> And </em> you’re insanely attractive.” </p><p>Reid blushes, which makes Carlos give a little self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry, everyone tells me I come on too strong.” </p><p>“No, I’m-” Reid swallows, the alcohol and the aura making him honest. “I’m kinda into it. Come on as strongly as you want.” </p><p>“Well all right then,” Carlos murmurs, hooking one of his feet around Reid’s chair and pulling them more closely together. The move disturbs the sleeping Daemon ferret on his shoulder and it perks up, then hops easily over to Reid. </p><p>Reid laughs in surprise. It’s lighter than he expected, like he can just feel a whisper of it left behind as it burrows itself into Reid’s neck and curls around to fall asleep again. </p><p>“Oh, Malfoy likes you!” Carlos looks pleasantly surprised. “He hardly likes anyone, I swear, the jealous little jerk.” </p><p>“Maybe I’m a Daemon whisperer.” Reid reaches up to stroke Malfoy’s fur. “I always wished for one, when I was little. I’ve heard they come to mundanes sometimes.” </p><p>Carlos goes soft as he watches Reid and Malfoy. “I’m one of the lucky few, actually. Totally mundane, but my mom found him all curled up at the foot of my crib when I was, like, one. Said he reminded her of some fantasy novel she’d read as a kid so she named him after someone in there. He’s been my special buddy ever since.”</p><p>“What do they do? Daemons?” </p><p>Carlos grins. “Well, gets me into trouble mostly. Malfoy’s <em> full </em> of bad ideas. Like this one time, in fourth grade, he totally tripped my biggest bully and bit his ankle - I guess Daemon bites don’t heal easily? - and I got detention but then again, the bully left me alone for the rest of the year, and then my mom transferred me to a less homophobic school.” </p><p>Reid rubs his cheek against Malfoy’s head. “Good boy.” </p><p>“And he…” Carlos trails off, looking vulnerable, then gives a little shrug. “When I was three, I started having seizures. I’m on meds now, but Malfoy, he can tell when they’re coming, help me get to a safer place. Alert someone. So he gets all the love and happiness and warm cuddles I can feed him.” </p><p>Reid feels moved, hearing Carlos’s confession. He reaches out to squeeze Carlos’s hand. “Thanks for sharing that with me. I’m really glad you have him, then.” </p><p>Carlos smiles, then, genuine and warm, and Reid can’t help but melt just a little more. </p><p> </p><p>A few hours later finds Malfoy scampering around the sidewalk in front of them as Carlos walks a tipsy Reid home. </p><p>“You didn’t have to, you know,” Reid murmurs, watching Malfoy climb a tree to chase after a real squirrel. “Walk me home.” </p><p>“Aw, come on. Birthday boy deserves to get a little smashed at his makeup party, then he also deserves to have someone walk him home.” </p><p>“Such a gentleman.” </p><p>Carlos gives him a sly wink. “Oh, I have plenty of ungentlemanly thoughts I’d love to share with you when you’re sober and can consent.”  </p><p>The promise in Carlos’s voice makes Reid shiver as they pull up to his place. “Will you let me kiss you, even though I’m not sober?” </p><p>“Come here and find out.” Carlos wraps his arms around Reid’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss. Reid sways, more from the feeling of kissing Carlos than the alcohol buzzing in his system. It’s like Carlos’s kiss makes him feel even tipsier. </p><p>It’s Malfoy poking his nose in between their faces and squeaking that pushes them apart, laughing. </p><p>Reid’s hand is lingering in Carlos’s even as he pulls out his keys. “Hey, are you doing anything tomorrow night?” </p><p>The look of confidence on Carlos’s face is utterly intoxicating. “Yeah, I’ve got a date with you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey folks! I hope that you are able to turn to ao3 as a place of comfort in this time of great uncertainty and social distancing. My school has been shut down for the rest of March, and I'm doing my best to keep busy. I'm hoping to build at least a few hours of writing into every day as a schedule for myself, which means, hopefully, finishing this fic soon!</p><p>Stay safe out(in) there, and wash your hands and STOP TOUCHING YOUR FACE (that last one is mostly a reminder to myself).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Everett - the Letter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everett and Reid continue to communicate via mail. </p><p>Day 22:</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Super short because it's epistolary!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Everett Denver,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s really good to hear. I hope everything works out for them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you a paralegal? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Regards, Reid Rogers</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Reid,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am. I’ve been working with Adrian for three years now. And I’ll admit, I looked you up in the building directory - CPA, huh? Does that mean everyone always asks you for free money advice the same way they ask me for free legal advice? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everett</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everett, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All the fucking time. Ha, for some reason, ‘fuck’ looks fun in cursive. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t even understand, it’s not like I run a stock portfolio. I just do people’s taxes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did you always want to be a paralegal?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Reid</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Reid,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not really. I was kind of aimless for a while. Wasn’t exactly an upstanding citizen. I’ll be blunt: I was an addict, but it took getting in trouble with the law to sober me up. I started taking the paralegal classes when I was in jail, actually. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wow, okay. So I rewrote that a dozen times before going with that. I hope that’s okay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everett</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everett,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I think that’s admirable, and I’m glad you’re clean. You can tell me as much or as little about it as you want. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I feel like my reasons aren’t so admirable. It seemed like a good, stable job, and that’s what I wanted. I mean, I’ve always been good with numbers, and it’s fun figuring out how to get my clients the best deal with their deductions, but I honestly became a CPA because it’s always going to be here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Reid</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Reid,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing wrong with that at all. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You should tell me more about it over dinner tonight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everett</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everett,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That was very smooth. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If I give you my number, does it mean you’ll stop wooing me in the fashion of Mr. Darcy?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Reid</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Reid,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Adrian just poked his head out of his office to see why I was laughing. And of course not, darling. We’ll always have the mail.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everett</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everett,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Very good answer. I’ll meet you on the front walk at 6.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Reid</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope everyone is still hanging in there. Love y'all and wish you health and happiness.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Keel - The Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A merman rescues Reid from the water. </p><p>Day 23: Mermaid AU</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another shorty as, to be honest, I kind of want to be done with this fic. :D  I like writing but it was a lot to bite off and the world has gone crazy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He looks back up at the merman, then over at the ring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I-” His teeth chatter at the cold of the water and he can’t get the sentence out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The merman looks up at the yacht above and shouts, “I’m going to swim him to shore. I can get him back faster than you can!” He turns, pulling Reid’s arms around his neck. “Hold on, mundane. This is going to be a little choppy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid buries his face in the merman’s brackish-green hair, his breath puffing out against the merman’s mottled green-brown skin. He clings for dear life as the merman’s tail kicks and then they’re speeding away from the yacht and toward the shore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems like no time at all before the merman is transforming to his mundane-looking skin beneath Reid, repositioning Reid into a bridal carry as he finds his footing in the sand and walks ashore. He’s still got those same piercing yellow eyes he had as a merman, but his hair has transformed into tight coils cropped close to his head, and his skin has lost the green, staying a deep brown instead, all glowing with that golden aura. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-thanks,” Reid whispers, still breathless. He tells himself it’s from the fall and the swim, not the absolutely solid chest he’s being held against. “My name’s Reid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keel.” He keeps carrying Reid ashore until they’re completely on the sand of the abandoned and empty beach, and Reid can’t help but shiver and shake against the cold autumn wind. “Hold tight, I’ve got clothing here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid belatedly realizes that the merman - of course - transformed into his mundane skin completely naked. His cheeks go hot, and he averts his eyes up to Keel’s face, which is also probably a mistake. Keel’s got this wry, secret smile on his face as he walks through the sand. Reid’s so enraptured he barely notices Keel setting his legs down to stand. He stumbles a little, Keel reaching out to steady him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keel waves his hand over the sand, murmuring something Reid can’t hear, and then the sand parts to reveal a chest - a treasure chest? - but no, now Keel’s opening it and it’s full of supplies. “My clothing should suffice,” he says, looking up at Reid, inspecting his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid swallows and nods his thanks. “I’m just going to, uh-” he motions through changing his clothes, waiting for Keel to turn around. After a long, amused look, Keel does, and Reid turns, too. Reid tries to change as quickly as possible, Keel’s dry clothes feeling nice against his frigid skin. They’re simple, jeans and a t-shirt, and Reid almost bursts into laughter when he turns to see that Keel’s wearing an entirely inappropriate-for-the-weather pair of board shorts and pulling on a tank top. He looks like he should be carrying a surfboard under his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Reid’s expression, Keel grins. “I tend to keep several different sets for different types of weather in my stash boxes.”   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s smart.” Reid returns the smile. “Thanks for giving me the warmer stuff, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here.” Keel tosses him a cloth bag for his sopping wet suit, although Reid isn’t sure there’s much hope in saving it. Next, he throws him a pair of dry socks and some old, beat up sneakers. “These might not fit as well, but it’s something until you can get home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid blinks, realizing that yes, of course their little adventure here needs to come to an end. “I should probably call my client, let him know I made it okay.” He pulls out his cell-phone, glad he spent the extra money to have someone enchant it with water-repel. He pauses, though, coming to a decision. “You have to let me take you to dinner. As a thank you for saving my life. I don’t have anything else to offer, I can’t- I can’t give you anything magical.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t sell yourself short, Reid. Dinner with you could very well be magical.” It looks like Keel hides his smile behind his hand even though his tone is dry as dust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid gives an appreciative little laugh. “Maybe so.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Stay safe and healthy out there friendos, and wash your hands!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Mason - The Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mason takes care of Reid after his fall in the water. </p><p>Day 24: Huddling for warmth (cuddling for warmth)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>LISTEN. I just started watching Person of Interest and so in between writing Mason originally and now, I've realized that Mason is Jim Caviezel, silver fox. </p><p>Also I'm changing the rating down, as I had grand plans for smut but they haven't happened yet and they may not happen. </p><p>Now if I was super motivated, maybe I would come back and write a smut scene for my favorite couplings. Hmm. Well. Look to see if it pops back up to E at some point. :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Reid’s breath catches in his throat, and though the red doesn’t dim from Mason’s eyes, he doesn’t look threatening in any way. Embarrassed, even. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I make them go away, I can’t warm you up,” he murmurs, though he does look down and away from Reid’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I just...have a little leftover anxiety, I guess, from Friday night. It was demons that were attacking that poor old man in the alley.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mason’s arms squeeze him in a hug. “I’m aware my brethren don’t have the best reputation. I try not to reveal myself, although a few of my most trusted know. Mercy, my assistant, for one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard not to snuggle back into Mason’s warmth, so Reid doesn’t deny himself. When he does, he feels Mason relax a little behind him, his warm breath playing against the hairs on Reid’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do...do you mind if I ask questions?” Reid whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I reserve the right to plead the fifth, but...go ahead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid captures Mason’s fingers in his as they rest against his stomach. “How old are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mason laughs a little. “Millenia, but I came to earth about four hundred years ago, give or take a decade.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, wow.” Reid wishes he had a more brilliant response. “So you accumulated your fortune…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The old fashioned way, yeah, but I’ve just been at it a lot longer than any human has.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is why you never pressure me to do illegal stuff like shelter your money or anything. Which is why you just use a random CPA and not like, one of the huge firms that handles all the wealthy people.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Mason’s feet tangle with his, radiating warmth. “I know it may seem odd, but I’m very particular about who I work with. Even my accountant. You’re far from random.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Really? Why?” Reid can’t help but burst out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re honest. You’re a mundane, so you’re didn’t have any supernatural abilities that would sniff me out. You’re a good person, Reid. I can’t think of anyone I’d want handling my taxes more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid can feel Mason’s lips quirk up in a smile against his neck, and it makes Reid laugh. “You’re...ridiculous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Mason replies in mock offense. “You’re all of those things, you know. And you’re horrible at taking a compliment, to boot. See? I can be honest about you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teasing dry humor of his voice makes Mason feel adventurous. “Are you flirting with me?” he dares to ask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid’s about to press for more information when he feels Mason’s warm lips press against his neck, lazy kisses that trail up beneath his ear and make him shiver - not from cold this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been flirting with you for a while now,” Mason whispers right into Reid’s ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid turns in Mason’s arms, barely avoiding smacking Mason in the face with his head because he’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>disaster</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a mundane. “No, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>haven’t.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mason’s smile barely tips his lips up, but it’s still there. “Why do you think I invited you out here on the yacht for a sunset dinner for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>business meeting?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid’s mouth drops open for a second before he realizes. “But, I- But. Really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Mason actually does smile, and it’s brilliant, all toothy and sweet even with his still red-glowing eyes. “You’ve never given me a second glance, I swear, but I’m drawn to you. It happens, every other century or so.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe I missed it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t mind my asking, what changed?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides you wrapping me up in your arms? Well…” It doesn’t take Reid long to relay the story of Damian and his new sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he gave you the gift of being able to see what you’ve been blind to before. Stereotypical genie, though he must have liked you since it seems to have had no strange side effects.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Genie? No, he’s just a seer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mason’s lips purse and he hums. “So how many potential men have you seen this week?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Including you? Five others. To be honest, it’s getting a little ridiculous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mason reaches up to cup his cheek, running his thumb over Reid’s chin. “What made you decide to give me a chance, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” Reid pauses, trying to give himself the time to give the best answer. “I guess I know you, too. I know you’ve never pressured me to do anything illegal. I know you’ve never treated me like a mundane, not really. Or, more importantly, you’ve never been an asshole about being ultra-rich, unlike some of the folks in this city. I guess I just...feel safe with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red fades from Mason’s eyes, and Reid realizes he hasn’t felt cold in any part of his body for a few minutes now. “And you’re certainly handy to have in bed on a cold winter morning,” Reid jokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mason’s eyes heat up for an entirely different reason, his hand smoothing down the side of Reid’s body to pull them more closely together. “You want to keep me in your bed, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid laughs, relaxing into the flirtation. “Hold up, Mr. Demon, you haven’t even kissed me yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I-” Mason cuts off at Reid’s nod to just take his lips. He’s warm there as everywhere else, feeling like heaven against Reid’s lips. They linger like that in the kiss, until Mason eventually pulls back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good start,” Reid breathes out on a laugh. “Now about a second kiss-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs as Mason presses him back to the mattress, covering Reid’s body with his, and kisses him again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always - stay safe and stay healthy. &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Paul - the husband</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reid comes to the rescue of The Husband. </p><p>CW: mentions past abusive boyfriend, domestic abuse.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Reid blinks, his own heart responding to the man’s desperation. “I- yeah, sure, okay. What’s your name? Anything else I should know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul. Paul Quinton. I just hope you’re good at going with the flow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reid Rogers.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like a comic book character, but okay.” Paul sits down right beside Reid, and reaches out to take his hand before realizing that it’s in a brace. “Ouch. Okay. Showtime.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s practically vibrating with anxiety as another man approaches them, looking hostile. “Tommy! Crazy seeing you here,” he manages as the other man takes the third seat at their table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy says nothing, his frown deepening, and Reid stiffens when he sees the bulge of a gun under his suit jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, uh, I’m glad to be seeing you here, because I need you to give your boss a message, okay?” Paul carries on, taking Reid’s good hand in his. “Tell Croskey that I’m no longer available. He can’t have me, and he’ll never be able to have me. My kind mate for life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bad guy - or at least, Reid supposes he’s the bad guy - frowns at the two of them, but when he notices some bystanders looking their way, he pushes away from the table. “This isn’t over, Paulie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Paul whispers, almost to himself, as Tommy walks away. He looks so haunted, so dejected, Reid wants to pull him into a hug before he remembers that gun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um. Is it too late to ask what I’ve gotten myself into this time?” Reid asks as they unclasp hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Paul stretches his fingers, as if he’s still feeling Reid’s touch. “Croskey is...not a good guy.” He rubs unconsciously over a bruise on his wrist in the shape of a hand. “And my ex.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid pushes the stack of money back into Paul’s lap, figuring he needs it more. “And that’ll convince him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll have to.” Paul shudders, looking down. “I wouldn’t want to get anyone else hurt.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something white, almost like a dust bunny, falls down into Paul’s lap, and Paul plucks at it, shoving it in his pocket. It’s then that Reid notices the ratty backpack sitting on the ground beside Paul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have someplace safe to go?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul shrugs. “I’ll find something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or...you could come home with me. My building is very secure.” He never has been able to turn someone in need away. That’s how he’d ended up with this ability to see golden auras, hadn’t he? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looks at him, surprised, then out to the street, where Tommy’s still loitering. “Yeah...okay.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Reid murmurs, setting a cup of tea in front of Paul back at his apartment. “But...Croskey...have you reported him to the police?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul wraps his hands around the mug as if he can’t get warm either. “The police won’t listen. Croskey has a legitimate claim, see.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Legitimate claim?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To my life. To my body.” Another little piece of white fluff falls from Paul’s fingers and he tucks it away quickly. “He’s very charming. He just so happened to charm my real name out of me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid inhales involuntarily. Whatever Paul is, he obviously belongs to the subset of magical creatures that can be controlled that way. “If his claim is legitimate, then pretending you married me-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t stop him for long, I know. Tommy’s just really, really stupid. By the time Croskey figures it out, I’ll be gone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or you could...tell me your name. We could, uh, actually get married.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looks at him sharply. “You’d do that for me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just- don’t like seeing people get hurt. Besides, we don’t have to, like, do anything. Just… I’ll be your protection. My claim will trump his. There’s no way he can pursue you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would you do that?” Paul scrubs a hand over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid inspects the strong golden glow emanating from Paul’s skin. “I have a feeling we’re compatible, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looks into his eyes, and whatever he sees there must satisfy him. “Okay. Okay, well. Hi.” He holds out his hand, which, to Reid’s surprise, has been completely covered in soft, white down. “My name is Fair Feather, and I’m a crane.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reid clasps his hand gently. “You’re safe now.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, guys, I fucked up, and in my first week of isolation, knitted too hard and gave myself a repetitive stress injury that makes it hard to knit, or type, or hold anything with my dominant hand... yeah. Stupid. So here's your cautionary tale. Don't injure yourself early in the game like I did. </p><p>It's taken me this long to write even this update, so yeah. Don't expect anything from me anytime soon. I'm sorry. I know fluff is needed at a time like this and I'm sorry I can't provide it right now. </p><p>I hope you and yours are healthy and safe right now. &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments and kudos are always appreciated. From the first chap, who's your fave so far?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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